Red Herring
by YuuKit
Summary: Pirate/Fantasy!AU/ "You are mine, poppet. There is nothing in this world that will ever change that." The sea holds many secrets, unknown to even those who travel her. Matthew happens to be one of those secrets so carefully coveted. Upon attempting his own freedom he caused a stir among the human populace - and now all the ugly monsters are rearing their heads. Mapletea & others
1. Prologue

**Hello.**

**Summary:** "You are mine, poppet. There is nothing in this world that will ever change that." The sea holds many secrets, unknown to even those who travel her. Matthew happens to be one of those secrets so carefully coveted. Upon attempting his own freedom he caused a stir among the human populace - and now, all the ugly monsters are rearing their heads.

**Genre:** Pirate!Hetalia AU with a lovely heaping of the supernatural - mostly things you'd find underwater. Yes, another merman fanfic. Lots and lots of male loving. I'd get out if you're not fond of it.

Pairings:

Main; UKCan  
Minor; Spanamo, DenNor, SuFin, RusPruss

_Red Herring_

**Prologue**

What need does an immortal man have for air? An inhale, an exhale, it makes no difference. He does not _need_to breathe, he is immortal. He cannot die. And yet, without the puff of oxygen filling his lungs, the man feels empty and hollow. His body is uncomfortable without it. So he respires, taking the fresh air into his body before breathing it out. It is normal, natural even, for the human body to crave the air it was born in, despite no longer needing it. You should desire something comforting like that, right? You wouldn't even so much as think about trying to survive in water. What a thought! A human, flailing and gasping as they try and endure beneath the cresting waves. It would be for naught, you see, as humans need air to survive! A human without air is like a fire underwater, a leaf in winter, a... a fish out of water. It does not belong, it will never belong. You will not adapt. You will not survive.

Unless you are immortal.

The surface of the sea glittered from the rays of the sun that scattered across her. Fish frolicked beneath the glowing waves. Being an immortal wasn't so bad if you had all your life to spend in a world such as this. Why would anyone want to leave their home? The sunspots danced over the rainbow coloured coral in a pleasant display of lights. It fluttered against the bodies of silver schools of fish, darting crossways over the reefs. The fish were content in such a place - the water was fine, their chances of continued existence was relatively even, and they had food. This was their home. They belonged here, in such a place! Never did they crave a taste of the world just above their heads. They did not yearn for something as preposterous as _adventure_.

_Adventure_. The word was sweet and savory when spoken from ones lips. It foretold of excitement, glory, fame... It sang of darker desires such as wealth, lust, _love_. Things you would never find under the sea. No, the only journey to be found there was the quick pulse of an underwater heart before sharp teeth snapped over your flesh. _The end_.

Lips parted, mouthing the word over and over. No air escaped those rosy pink lips, but the water morphed around the unspoken words. _Adventure. Exhilaration. Passion. _All the wonderful things associated with these, including danger and excitement. It was not a life of anything that lived in the water. It was a life of air, a life much craved by some creatures under the water. What would it be like to fill your lungs with air? To feel sand crunch beneath your feet? Feet, attached to calves leading to knees and thighs and a slim human waist. What a glorious thought.

But that was it; simply a thought, not an action. Land and air and the world of human beings was but a swish of the tail away, thriving right above this halo of blonde - alas, it was not meant to be. Was it? _No, no, no!_To leave the ocean would be abandonment. Desertion was a cruel thing, such a cruel thing indeed. It could not be done, not even to fulfill feeble wants or wishes. And yet...

What was there in the future of the sea? _A Coronation. Marriage; one-sided emotions of another's to be tied to. Loneliness._ Yes, so thrilling were these miscellaneous things that would come and go. So breathtaking would this beautiful life be under the sea, surrounded by the current and turtles and creatures unknown to mankind. Lavender eyes floating on a backdrop of pale skin roamed over the sand. Such a wonderful life. Such a life befitting a creature less fickle than a royal merman such as he.

His fingers splayed and he rose his hand upwards to the top of the ocean. What would air taste like against his tongue? Dry, most likely. Rough, gritty. Different. It would taste like freedom, but it would have the tang of ashes. Sorely fought for, bitterly won. Won the way a coward would win it. How could he even think of such a thing? What would his father think of this longing for the world above? This was thought about many times over. Disgusted, probably, in him and in the land his heart was set on. The Lord merman was kind, but was convinced that all things that were worth anything belonged in the ocean's embrace. Sometimes when he mentioned it the young mercreature could see a sad look in his father's blue eyes, yet it passed quickly. But it lingered long enough to cause one to ponder.

A thin, sliver-lilac tail swished slowly through the water surrounding everything. Just one strong pump of those same lower muscles would send him shooting upwards, hands outstretched, ready to grab at the sky that was surely awaiting his entry. Inhibitions be damned! Did he ever want to see what was up there, feel his skin as it would be dry, touch a human and their strange little toes. Be he had not the courage to leave this land he belonged to. It was a part of him, he a part of it, and in the grand scheme of things his leaving would cause an uproar. His father needed an heir and that was him. But being an heir, a king, even a ruler was unsatisfying and tasteless on his tongue. Was it wrong for him to long for love, companionship, a journey of his own? His heart said _no_ but his mind screamed _yes, YES!_ until his ears were ringing and he was deaf to all other things but that single syllable. If he could cry, he would. He didn't want this, didn't deserve to be tied to a single fate! He wanted to change it, to mold it in his own palms! Was it fair? No! It was not fair!

His vocal chords rung with one single, shrill cry. He never wanted this, never wanted to be forced upon the throne. He would not stand for it! His choices were his own, made of his own accord without some sniveling servant telling him how to go about all the years he had. No. He would not let fate play out like this. Was this not his life? The only way to change anything would be to take charge. Irritating, hopelessness and an awe-inspiring fear built in his belly, combating the blatant knowing who and what he was about to ditch. But he would come back! A merman of his word, he would always come back. Not even land would keep him from this sea. Nothing would. Eyes filled with fury at himself and his world, the merman gave one hard snap of his tail, shooting several meters towards the surface. A second snap and he was but centimeters away. No one was stopping him. It was easy. It was _risky._It was perfect. With determination taking the fury out of his stomach, Matthew pumped his tail one last time and shot into the warmth of the sun and the breeze of the day.

The change in temperature wracked his body in the most violent way possible. Water evaporated quickly from his flesh and he could feel his fins flutter and morph as they were disconnected from the liquid. Gills flattened to skin, claws dulled to thin nails and his second set of eyelids disappeared from existence. His tail did not leave yet, though, the change from scales to skin much longer a process than everything else. Matthew's eyes only processed the fact he was moving very quickly at an extremely sharp angle towards a large, brown... wooden thing that he occasionally saw under the water. The shock of impact forced water out of his lungs before he gasped, filling his lungs with the odd atmosphere of air.

It tasted sweet.


	2. Fisherman's Catch

**Hello again. I have a few questions, first off; would you like me to reply to reviews? Do you mind extended periods between long chapters? And a question for the end of the chapter - am I moving too fast?**

**Translations are at the bottom of the page. The formatting on this site frustrates me. Aside from that, I forgot to mention that much later in the story there will be mild UKUS, but nothing long lasting. It drives the plot so please don't let it dissuade you.**

* * *

_Red Herring_

**Fisherman's Catch**

_And how should we treat something so fragile, anyway?__  
__It shrivels without love, flattens under a palm, cries in agony if you pluck at it,__  
__but none can resist the beauty that is of a flower._

* * *

Knowledge is power. All things know this, everyone strives to hold their authority over another. Some people are used to this, born to rule, birthed into the world of influence and responsibility. They had never had to fight for it. Matthew was one of those people brought into the world and shoved into his duty right from the start. He'd never had to win respect or raise his voice to be heard. What sort of power do you have when you do not withhold intellect? None. You become powerless.

Here, in this new world, Matthew is powerless. He knows little about land and its inhabitants. He would find out the hard way. Even knowing this, he sought out this new world above, desperate for an experience he would never have in his homeland. And now, here he was.

Air escapes lungs easily, he realized with both a blurry mind and foggy sight. Loud, rambunctious shouts rose up around wherever he was, but they sounded distant, almost as if he was hearing them through a tube. He could not pick out the foreign words over the startling buzz in his ears. Why was it so dark? The sun had been out only moments ago. Dazedly, he groped forward with his fingers, palm scratching against the surface of wood. It was above him, below him, on all sides. Matthew's eyebrows furrowed as he squirmed. He only managed to savagely flop his tail twice in a pitiful attempt to understand what was happening. After the third smack he twisted his body - and abruptly began to roll with ease.

The hollow noise of wood against wood made his wriggling stop, puzzled. He gave his body another almighty twist and the noise began again. Ahhah! Now he understood. He ended his struggling to examine his surroundings more carefully. As previously mentioned it was dark, almost black, but if Matthew focused he could see a small stream of light flittering behind him. Something tight and solid cut uncomfortably into his pelvis and hips but if he moved his lower half he could feel something barely grazing his lower back. The bark surrounding him had a distinctly fishy scent and was a little damp. The minuscule amount of water was warm, but not enough to expose his merman features. He was in a barrel. A _used_ barrel. _Neat_, he thought to himself, feeling giddy. _That would explain the darkness. How do I get out though? _

It was not necessary for him to think about. As the ringing in his ears (he had ears now - they weren't fins!) now subsided, he could pick out a cacophony of voices sounding from outside his little shelter. Two people, one male and one female. Wow, did they ever sound different than what Matthew was accustomed to! In the water people spoke slowly, quietly, and the noise would reverberate against the waves and echo into the beyond. Here in the air everything was so... snappy! The tenors their vocal chords made never stood still in the air, never bounced from one side of the sky to the other. The woman's boisterous voice reached his ears first. "Roderich! Did you see that fish?! It was enormous! Did it land on the ship?! Where did it go?!"

A nasally, grumbling tone replied. "Yes, love, I'm sure it was. A really grand fish, I am positive. Mhmm." Matthew did not think this man was being quite honest with his 'love'. The pitch of his voice made him sound more dismissive than anything. "Nevertheless, Elizabeta, we cannot search for it now. Those notorious pirates are coming to collect again, remember?" An unladylike snort came from who Matthew assumed was the female. "Yes, I know, however it is customary for us to give what offerings we have. Unless you'd prefer the blasted man burning down our village?"

A murmured apology was mentioned, the merman straining to hear it. "He may do it regardless. We both know that fish have been scarce this past month. I doubt you've caught enough to keep us from starving, much less than how much 'pay' that beast of a man needs." She pushed out an exasperated sigh. "How does he expect us to live on such little resources?!"

There was the noise of hard shoes against timber as the duo began to walk. Matthew noticed that the sound was approaching him rather than leaving, but obviously they still overlooked his position. He flailed his tail-end to no avail. Their conversation continued. "He does not expect us to live." The man sounded tired, sad. It caused pangs of sympathy to wave through the young man's kind heart. These poor souls, tormented by this man they called 'Pirate'. Pirate was definitely now on Matthew's bad list! If he was to ever meet this likely very cruel man, he would need to give him a talking to. Oh, how naive Matthew was. "There is only so much we can do to survive, love. Arthur has taken away the peoples will as easily as he had taken away their weapons." There was a pregnant pause before he continued. "Until that bastard find another plaything, we will be the vermin he enjoys crushing under his boot."

One set of footfalls stopped in place, but the lighter, delicate ones continued to come closer. It was the girl, Matthew realized, as it was her voice that sounded nearly immediately to the left of the barrel. "What a prat," she snarled, an odd sound of skin against skin thudding against his eardrums, "As if he deserves to torture us so! As if he should be the one crushing pests! _He_ is the cockroach I'd like to crush beneath my heel! I swear, if he so much as _smirks_ at me with that infuriating face of his, I will -" Having enough of their prattle and feeling deliberately ignored, Matthew brought his great amethyst tail against the boards of the deck again. He was uncomfortable, his arms were cramping, and it was bloody _hot in here! _The woman yelped and sprung away from his location, tumbling to her bottom a few paces away. He continued to smash his long appendage against the floor of the ship.

"_Roderich -_" she hissed, scrambling away from Matthew, "Oh, _Roderich - _do you see it?! Right there! In the fish barrel! I _told _you it was massive!"

Roderich, who had originally not believed his wife, made a quiet noise of discontent. "I... I do see it, yes! It must weigh a hundred pounds!"

Matthew pouted. Were they calling him fat? Humans were much more rude than the Seawitch in the Red Bay had said they were! Despite the initial contemplation of calling out to the two, Matthew remained silent, wanting to see what would unfold. This was an _adventure_, after all. Best to let it play out by itself for the time being until he felt the need to intervene with fate.

"A... A hundred pounds?! That's more fish than what you catch in two weeks!" Roderich groused an irritated denial to this, but neither was really off put by this development. "That's half of what we owe to the pirates! _More_ than half, most likely!"

They shuffled over to the sideways barrel, one on either side. Matthew smiled, pushing himself up to his elbows, ready for them to pull him out. To his surprise and great disbelief they instead hoisted either side of the barrel into their hands and shoved it into an upwards position. The merman squealed quietly as his weight and gravity shoved his upper body downward, face and collarbone pressed flat against the bottom of the confined space as his tail flopped uselessly in the air. His back was bent in a funny angle that did not quite hurt. The middle of his torso, centimeters away from where scales gave away to skin, was lodged firmly in the top of the barrel, unhelpfully blocking his human features from sight. "Holy crap that thing is heavy! It's like carrying two of those barrels at once..."

"And you would know how heavy that is, Elizabeta?" The woman proudly confirmed the man's question and he sighed in defeat. "Of course you would. How rude of me to assume anything else." In reply the fisherman's wife laughed loudly, uncaring of who would hear. He shushed her as they both began to carefully move the barrel into another position.

Their conversation carried onwards. "What kind of fish is it, do you think?" The higher voice asked, inquisitiveness ringing clear through her tone. After their movement paused to take a break she brushed a hand over the slimy scales. "Gorgeous, whatever it is. A shark?" His tail twitched slightly under her touch. Gosh, her hand was warm...

"Doubtful, yet not impossible. I don't know any types of fish that get quite this big, even if they overeat. Perhaps its foreign." Well, they were right in a way, Matthew supposed. But he wasn't quite sure why they wanted fish anyway. What would they do with a bunch of his kin in a barrel? Not only did it seem a little silly, but it was slightly cruel as well. He would be livid if he ever found out they kept so many in an uncomfortable position like this!

Subconsciously, he ran his tongue across his lips. It left a trail of wetness that astounded him. Matthew did it again, then again, finding the strangest pleasure in this. Somehow, some way, he was still retaining water! Unless... all humans did this? Were their insides wet then? Perhaps it was simply a side effect of still having his tail. Finally recognizing he had tuned the other two out, he strained to listen to the conversation again. He might learn something interesting from their chatter.

" - won't need much salt since it's fresh." The man spoke again. Matthew crinkled his nose in confusion. What were they talking about? "Herbs would go nicely with it. Of course, Pirates don't have nice things. They'll likely just cook it and douse the pieces in mead or something equally unworthy of the beautiful creature." Briefly, Matthew wondered what the heck a herb was. Maybe it was a type of seaweed? Or _landweed, _he supposed. This was not the sea anymore, after all. The woman's indignant grunt of agreement was the prelude to a hush between the duo and the merman took this time to think and collect a feel for this setting.

They had finally moved him into place it seemed, as his container was not screeching against the ship anymore. However there was a faint sensation of his body slowly rocking forwards and backwards. Interesting. That must be the feeling of the fisherman's boat sitting atop the water. It could be compared to the feeling of the gentle current constantly putting an individual into motion underwater. The feeling was... pleasant. Homey, even. His ache for land notwithstanding, Matthew knew he would miss his home as soon as he left it. Perhaps being on a ship would be good for him. _Maybe later,_ he firmly told himself. _First... get to land, see what that is like! Oh, the stories I will bring back home..._

As if his father would ever let him tell the others such magnificent tales. As if his father would ever even let him out of his room again upon his return! The man was just so controlling that Matthew could barely stand it. He squeezed his glowing lavender eyes shut as thoughts of his father filled his head. Oh, gosh, he would be so angry once the young man found his way home. So, so infuriated! Fright blossomed in Matthew's chest. His father had never hit nor abused the young man, but his fury at learning where his son had gone... Would he hurt anyone? His Papa was typically a very mild man whose vocabulary only consisted of loving, kind words. But he was also very capable of being spiteful, though Matthew had never been on the receiving end of the king's frustration. His brother, however...

He brushed the thoughts off. Getting homesick when he was not even far from home was stupendously idiotic. His wide, flat tail flopped a few times in the air as he tried to wriggle free.

"Roderich," he heard the woman begin, "That fish is still alive..."

"Leave it, Eliza. It is likely fighting to stay conscious, but it will die without water as they always do. No point in getting our hands bloody when we can let the Maker do his own work."

He was going to... die?! Without water?! Matthew's tail began to thrash violently. The barrel rocked side to side for but a second before settling back in place. His lungs expanded and contracted quickly as Matthew set into a state of panic. He could have sworn that the change would allow him to live! That _is_ what his notes had said! Just as he was about to pierce the air with a sharp trill, the man spoke again. "I mean, they have gills instead of lungs like us. That's what they pull water through and how they get oxygen." The merman hesitated, aware that he had been breathing through his mouth instead of gills this whole time. His gills disappeared quite a while back. "See? It has passed on."

An adoring sigh. "Oh, you're so smart, Roddy..."

Matthew relaxed into the embrace of this strange wooden crate. For now, he would play a dead fish. No more flopping of his fins! Yet another bizarre thought crossed his tranquil mind. Why hadn't his lower end turned into legs and feet? That was also predicted to happen when one came into contact with air. The scales and goo were said to melt away into the flesh and bone. That clearly did not occur in this case, at least not yet. The book had mentioned it could take a few minutes for it to kick in. Did it have something to do with his positioning? Maybe even his present environment? He was still sort of covered in water, as the wood against his face was moist and slick. Not slick enough for him to become unstuck, apparently. Humans did some pretty shoddy work when it came down to it! Not only did their ships sink at random intervals and pollute the merfolk's beautiful habitat, but they also made it virtually impossible for one of his sort to get out of these... stupid... traps! Traps that they set for his kin! Traps that stunk greatly of the friends that floated around his head daily! Gosh, he wondered why they reeked so horribly when bared to air. It was NOT a agreeable smell.

Matthew flinched slightly as the boat made a sudden movement. "Love, we're returning to the docks." Roderich informed Elizabeta. He supposed he could use their names, couldn't he? Theoretically they would be fine with it as they referred to one another by name. At home everyone did something similar, though often Matthew's name had 'my lord' preceding it. Which of course did not bother him, he was familiar with it, but he wished several of his friends would steer clear of using his title like that.

Minutes dragged on, feeling like hours for the poor uncomfortable boy. Blood was beginning to rush to his head and he was getting darn dizzy from it. The tips of his fingers were getting a little numb and the unknown feeling did not sit well with Matthew. He wiggled them and that felt a little out of the ordinary as well. He guessed he could sum that up to the fact he no longer had bunches of thin webbing between his fingers. Before they stretched between the middle of his first and second knuckle, but now it was thick and stubby. It did not even reach halfway to the second knuckle! This amused and baffled him at the same time. How did humans swim if they had no gills, no fins, no tails? They were about as useful as a stick once they plunged into the deep blue. Of course Matthew had never truly seen a human swim before as he was not REALLY permitted to go near the surface, but evidently that rule was for naught at this point.

The vessel rocked smoothly as it teetered over waves. Judging by the amount of movement there was Matthew deducted it was likely smaller than the ships he often spotted resting against the ocean floor. Leaves and driftwood wobbled endlessly in water while something big moved fluidly, like a finger against silk. The blonde boy sighed softly to himself, careful not to alert the two humans to his presence. That sort of predicament had many unforeseeable circumstances and outcomes and Matthew was not sure he admired the likelihood he would survive.

The still silence that lingered over the duo and the company they were not aware of was cut short by the bustle of people. If they could, Matthew's ears would perk up. A myriad of voices of both young and old, male and female, deep and high rose like a chorus into the air, danced against his eardrums. Some were yelling orders, others asking questions. It began as a gentle murmur and then a loud roar as the boat drew closer to the docks. There was no beginning nor end to the noise, instead it wove itself like a blanket around his head. He wanted to get out of this hollowed quiet that was the barrel and move with that noise, dissect and examine it as it shifted and heightened. But he could not. He was a dead fish, and as that he must act. How would the society of humans react to a man that was half fish, anyway? Gaining legs was an evolution meant to dissolve that sort of suspicion, sort of like a second skin a person would wear to ward off enemies.

As the boat halted the merman took his time to discover the distinct difference between the way a boat would rock in place and the way it felt as it glided over the sea. As it moved, there was a slight pressure on his body, like some force was trying to drive backwards but his own bodily power prevented this from happening. It must have something to do with wind, or push or pull, or something to that extent. He really did not know. It was like the undertow, hauling you to the deepest parts of the ocean before spitting you back out again. Not really a threat, but not specifically something good either. Particularly if you could not breathe underwater.

The two sets of boots thudded over the deck again and another conversation began. "What time are they coming at today?" Elizabeta inquired, her voice hushed. Matthew honed in on what they were talking about.

"I'm not sure, love. But I don't want you to be here when they come."

"But, Roderich - !" Elizabeta was cut off, but Matthew could not see what by. A soft smacking noise made Matthew frown in confusion. "... Okay." Her voice was a little muffled. "I'll go. Be careful... _Szeretlek_ ..."

Her footfalls began to move away. "Elizabeta." She faltered in her steps and Matthew could imagine the woman listening. The man inhaled deeply. "... If I don't come back, you know what to do."

The woman's shoe squeaked as she strode off the boat.

Her abrupt leave made the young sea dweller troubled. Whatever was just exchanged between the two of them was noticeably private and also very significant. For whatever reason they were both fearful of this man who was coming to pick his shipment up. He assumed this man would be the 'Pirate' they had spoken of earlier which made him even more concerned. It didn't connect in Matthew's mind that _he_ was part of the delivery because it did not matter at the time. But there was nothing he could accomplish right now. So, he closed his eyes and began to wait.

* * *

The placid, chilly breeze rolled off the waves of the sea and against the fair skin of the well-aged fisherman. It stank of fish and saltwater, typically unpleasant smells, but to the young Austrian it was the fragrance of home. He had lived on the sea with his father and grandfather more than he had lived on the crunchy gravel of his hometown. As his mother never came back from the market that one fateful day, what reason did he have to stay on land? The ocean, big and kind and heartwarming beckoned him always. And for eternity would he return to sail the deep blue. Hopefully someday he would be showing his sons how to go about the boat rather than his wife, but for now he was content with her excitable company. His eyes roamed over the view of the ocean before he turned to examine the full, thriving docks and the portside town.

Like usual the wooden planks had quite the multitude of boats tied to the upward stakes. The spaces for docking were few, yet the amount of boats were many. As this was a port town they had lots of local fisherman and cargo boats who would leave to retrieve their shipments before coming home. Every three boats shared one space. Sometimes it got a little crowded, but he was glad that his own ship was of relatively small stature and that its size was fairly common among the populace. Having the massive tankard ships of royalty would just drag the entire thing down... And it would make their town even more of a target than it already was. Bloody pirates. Citizens zoomed on and off their ships, some shouting orders at one another and others laughing obnoxiously at something done or said. Roderich had a crew as well. They were at home right now. He did not want them getting caught up in the trouble that was sure to come about as their proverbial land-sharks found their way to the soil.

Gestures of kindness were in constant motion in this portside settlement. By the entry of the docks a beggar sat, the dirty, ratty rags he called clothes the only thing he had owned for such a long time. Roderich had spoken to him before. He was an elderly gentleman and had been a sailor - until his family, crew and ship were taken away from him. Everyone who knew anything about it mentioned something about pirates, however the old man's story was different than that. His story was much more fanatical, much more... intriguing. The only thing he remembers of the encounter was a faint, lovely voice ringing in his ears, until more joined in the soothing crescendo. As it rose higher and higher his mind got fuzzier and foggier until... nothing. Poof. It was like the memories had vanished from his brain, he had murmured. After thanking him for the story Roderich had given the man that coat. That was ten years ago. The man's mind had since then deteriorated greatly. He often fumbled through the streets, crying the names of his wife and children, looking terribly lost and alone. Due to that people tended to avoid him. And yet, Roderich had to doubt. Whenever he walked past the man would acknowledge his presence with a dip of his head accompanied by a soft grunt. His eyes still twinkled with the look of a haunted man, but if his mind was so misplaced how would he remember a young fisherman's boy? Oh curious, oh curious.

A middle aged man a few feet away had heavy cargo piled high in his arms. The top teetered dangerously as he stepped off his boat, almost falling; but a young boy not yet thirteen stumbled over and scooped a share of the load. They marched off towards town together, discussing and smiling. Roderich knew who they were, too. The boy was the man's youngest son, the only one who hadn't yet left home. Blacksmithing was their business and were they ever fine at it! Last he had heard the young boy wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and forge magnificent swords and tools as well. Perhaps his father had finally agreed to take him under his wing? One could only hope. Their town was banned from carrying or forging weapons, however that did not stop them. If there was one secret in this urban area that was kept well, it was the underground stock of cutlasses and sharpened swords, patiently waiting for the day they would finally plunge into the chests of their faux leaders.

Roderich grimaced, thinking of the day the pirates had rode into town and plundered till their hearts content. They turned the people here into their scapegoats. As the Captain told them their rights the crew ransacked homes, stealing weapons and looting about. And what could they do about it? No one here was a fighter, no one knew swordplay and they had no knights or guards. They were powerless to stop the invasion that day and every day after. Anyone that attempted to drive the goons away ended up with a knife in their back or a shot through their head. Still the evil men came to take and _take _but never give back. Every so often they would drop by and take a woman from her home, her relatives... It was sickening. But it was the way the pirates worked.

What a shame! A shame for this place, a disgrace to the world. Those horrible men left a tarnishing smear on the good soul of this beautiful town. This town was so pleasant, so quiet and yet so full of life. During daytime there were children all about, singing and playing with laughter abound. Vendor stalls lined the streets like barnacles lined the body of a ship. They sold everything you could ever imagine! Food, toys, precious gems, cloths and silks. People bartered and haggled well into the afternoon until they were satisfied with both their finds and their sales. At night the streets lit up in firelight. It was calm, peaceful, lacking in thieves or thugs. You could walk about at midnight with your purse out and no one would snatch it. You hardly ever had to lock your doors. Oh, but the nights of festivals were the finest of them all. It was always a still, warm night, the stars bright and easy to be gazed at. Everyone was awake, child to adult, all mingling and dancing and eating well into the night. There was always a fair amount of drinking as well, but that was of course restricted to the adults. What a wonderful, wonderful town...

After a few heartbeats Roderich slowly began to move about his ship, preparing for the arrival of the fiends. He tugged a pale, slightly shaking hand through his dark raven locks and adjusted his glasses. He was not positive he looked presentable enough for a Queen or King, but his dirty old fishing boots and worn blue coat would do for a meeting with bandits. Pirates were a common occurrence to these shores and as such, there was an alarm he was to ring as the ruthless pillagers approached. Knowing they would be here soon was means enough for it to be sounded. A large brass bell hung by the bow of the ship with a long, winding rope dangling down. The man grasped the end of the rope and shook it furiously, the piercing clanging noise filling the air in an instant.

The docks parallel to his boat erupted into chaos as people began to take flight from their vessels into the town. People took all they could of their shipments that were sitting at the docks and fled to their homes, with any luck getting their fast enough to safely hide their wives and children along with anything else valuable. Pirates just took everything they could get their grubby paws on. Roderich dropped the rope and stomped back across his ship to peer out at the open sea. It was empty... for now. It was the proper date of the month for the crew of the_ Bloody Sanctum _to drop by for a pleasurable trip. _Right_. Each and every time they dropped by it was much less than pleasant. Roderich just cringed thinking of the stench of cheap alcohol and the stupid, _idiotically _obnoxious laughs the men of that crew carried in their bellies. He needed something else to focus his attention on. Thoughts of these bloody pirates were starting to get him all riled up when he did not need to be!

He began to move the large, full barrels of fish to the docks, carrying them one by one. Hard work for one man, but there was nothing that could be done about that. There was no way he would put someone in danger just to deliver a meal to men he would rather see starve. Roderich nearly dropped the third barrel into the ocean and he cursed himself as it began to roll away. He chased it down and halted it with his shoe, thanking whatever gods there were that the barrels all had lids keeping everything inside. He crouched next to it and shoved it back into a vertical position. Placing his hands on either side of the middle, he heaved it upwards and tottered off to the docks, being more wary about the lip on the side of his ship. He lowered it and it plunked down on the weathered wood with ease. Good. He wiped at his creased brow with his sleeve and exhaled deeply. Two weeks work gone in a flash. Briefly he wished the fish would be spoiled. Roderich groaned and shook the thought from his mind. Then the pirates would just come back demanding more than usual and no one wanted _that_ to happen. Now, where had he and Elizabeta placed that last barrel ... ?

He turned and scanned the ship until his eyes settled on the vibrantly coloured beast of a fish. A small, sad smile settled on his face as he reminisced the burst of emotion that had come from his wife upon looking at the magnificent catch. Elizabeta. She was lovely as a young girl and gorgeous as a young woman. They had known one another for years, even took classes together from the school teacher until girls stopped going. How many of those years had she spent swooning over him, Roderich mused. If only he had noticed her feelings when they were younger. They had only been married two years and at twenty-eight ... they were getting old. They both knew it. But time is the rust that wears on all things and it cannot be turned back. Regrets are in the past. Once must look to the future if they ever want to right them. Now, the best way of doing such a thing was to bear a child. Roderich smiled a silly, wry grin. He could hardly wait until that momentous day.

But for now he had a task to finish and then endure. Padding over to the last full barrel, Roderich then hoisted it up and stomped across the ship. The creature inside flopped lamely as he chuckled. It must have wedged in there something awful! Never had he seen a fish of such colour, of such... aim. It did land right in the best spot, after all. Some part of him was dismayed he could not keep and examine it. The fish was an incredible discovery! He had never seen anything like it in all his time on the water. He placed the container next to the others on the pier. Softly he pressed his hand to the odd coloured scales, squeezing lightly. The scales were smooth, not slimy, and bizarrely warm when against his skin. Clearly there was a lot of hard muscle or meat underneath because it just barely yielded under his soft grip. For some reason it reminded him of how a human's muscular thigh felt. Roderich turned red and dropped his head, ears burning right up to the tips. _That_ was not something suitable to think about at this time.

Swiftly he removed his hand from the long tail, surprised when he still felt something sticking to his palm. A few scales must have come loose as three lavender scales were pressed into his skin. He brushed them off before getting an idea. He would not be able to keep the fish, but a scale... Yes, there was no harm in that. For a second he swooped to the floor of his ship, deciding on taking just one of the pretty things for a keepsake. As he stood he grinned broadly. No, there was no harm in this at all. There would be, however, slight consequences for not paying attention to his surroundings.

Needless to say he was downright terrified as the heavy thump of thick, sea-faring boots trotted against the decks. Roderich started, shoving the scale into his pocket before revolving on the spot with his coat fluttering against his sides. His mornings breakfast curdled in his stomach as the trio of men approached. Two of them had familiar faces, but the third was new. His dress was also different in comparison to the others that had ever come about, more similar to a captain's garb than the less accessorized crew.

"Kesesesese! Did we scare ya? Fuck, we did! Look at his face!" Distastefully loud laughter rang from the throats of the strange male and the blond on his left. Disturbingly enough they sounded almost _alike_ in pitch. From their other encounters Roderich recognized that the blond was the man with the particularly Danish sounding accent. His dark violet-blue eyes shot to the left, sizing up the second familiar face. The second blonde was much shorter, much better-mannered (for a pirate) and much more pleasant. Instead of laughing with the other two he shot the Austrian a weak, apologetic smile. Roderich had no idea how that young boy could be a ruthless killer like the other two. It looked like it would be a crime to even _suggest_ that the boy was a pirate. His appearance was too... subdued.

Roderich cleared his throat politely, anxiety wiggling in his gut. He wrung his hands together in the presence of his town's mighty foes. Gosh, he was never nervous about their meetings until it finally occurred. "I... Forgive me. I was not attentive to your approach." He picked his vocabulary carefully, not wanting to set anyone off.

"Clearly!" What a _weird_ eye colour. Was this man some sort of demon? His irises shone a rich claret like well-aged wine. He must have noticed Roderich staring because he made a rumbling noise in his throat, waving a hand. "Whatever! Just give us our shit." He paused and turned to the Dane. "What are we even picking up in this place?"

The broad, shining grin that broke across his face made a name immediately spring to the front of Roderich's mind. _Mathias._ "Fish, Gilbert! I- ah, I mean sir! Sir Gilbert! What is even your title anyway?"

"Hell if I know."

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose, very much wanting this to be over and done with. Pirates were so infuriatingly difficult to deal with sometimes. "_Anyway_," he began, gesturing to the barrels behind him, "Your load is there. I assume you know how to take it aboard your own ship?" Sometimes that snobby tone he constantly carried in his childhood seeped into his voice. This was one of those times.

This instance he was lucky enough that they chose to ignore it. "Right, right! Mathias, you get that one, I'll get this one. Tino... take whichever is the lightest." The small male quipped a sharp 'aye!' before scuttling off to test out the barrels. None were significantly lighter, so he just chose one and began to meander off to the pirate ship. Roderich's eyes traveled upwards.

_The Bloody Sanctum_ was a massive, elegantly worked ship that was in tremendously good shape for its occupation. The hull of the ship was painted a lovely mahogany red to suit her name. It was accented with gold and cherry brown. The beige coloured sails were massive and towered high in the sky. Last, but not least, was the pirate's signature flag. It flapped in the soft breeze, a cloth black with the typical skull and crossbones on it. But another addition was added; a scarlet crown, worn lopsidedly by the skull head. In Roderich's opinion such a wonderful design would be well-matched to a ship for royalty, and in some way it did serve royalty. Or, at least, he had heard the Captain of this particular vessel treated himself like a sovereign. _He's such an ass._ The Austrian gritted his teeth at the rude, yet true judgments.

"Hey." The grumble caught his attention and his eyes drifted to the red-eyed monster. What sort of accent was that? Gravely, rough, kind of... similar to his own. It wasn't Austrian. Perhaps he was German? Noting that he had caught the raven haired man's attention, the pirate beamed in a smile that looked too big for his face. "What the hell is in that barrel?" He pointed to said cargo with the massive tail hanging out.

Roderich shrugged. "A fish."

The pirate rolled his demonic eyes. "Yeah, _no shit._ What kind of fish? A shark?" Roderich spotted the vague sense of uneasiness around the other. Maybe he was intimidated by the size? The classy fisherman would have laughed if he did not find it so pitiable. Instead he contorted his face into a scowl.

"_No,_ simply a fish, _sir_. Highly edible, caught just before your appearance this fine afternoon." He felt a swell of pride as the pirate shot him an irate look. Well, when you ask a stupid question, it only made sense you get an idiotic answer in return. His pride melted into fear as the man's smile grew back over his lips. That was never a good sign.

'Gilbert' waved his hand at the barrel. "If you're so sure it's _just_ a fucking fish, why don't you bring it onto the ship for us! Makes sense, ja?" Ah, so he was definitely German. _Great,_ Roderich _loved_ Germans. With a grunt and little else for a retort he marched over and scooped the barrel into his arms. It was the last one. As he moved back closer to the German he observed the flecks of snow white hair poking out of his hat. So he _was_ more than likely some sort of devil-child. That just made this all the better. The man called Gilbert motioned for Roderich to get onto the heathen's ship foremost. Wanting to get out of this situation as quickly as possible, the Austrian heaved the circular crate up the steps at a fast pace, his stomach fluttery and uncomfortable as he boarded the ship.

It was relatively deserted for a pirate ship. In fact, the only other people on deck at this point were two pirates, himself, and a small boy sword fighting with a stray bucket. His loud, hooting calls filled the air as he pretended to parry and then lunge forward with the makeshift cutlass. It was really just a piece of driftwood. Still, it unsettled Roderich a great deal. They had children on this ship? That was as uncommon as keeping a woman on a pirate ship. Not only was it unsafe, but most of the time they would just get in the way. "Peter!" Tino, the small pirate, shuffled on over to the boy and began to whisper in a hushed voice to him. Where had the Dane gone? Roderich frowned faintly and began to take his haul to where they had placed the other ones. Chills wandered up his spine as he heard the pitter patter of little feet run off. The boy just went down into the ship and Roderich hoped that was not to protect any little eyes from violence.

That would be a peculiar thing for a pirate to consider, anyway.

"Just set it down where you are." Roderich jumped and fumbled with the barrel, very nearly dropping it against the deck. The German was leaning against the pole leading up to the Crow's nest, his garnet eyes never straying from Roderich's place. Fear began to trickle into his body as his violet eyes darted around nervously. Where was the crew? _Where were they?_ They had never made him come onto the huge ship before, so why now? Perhaps their obnoxious new recruit just wanted a good, easy laugh at Roderich's expense. Yes. That must be it. His tense shoulders relaxed slowly. He still needed to keep his guard up. He did, however, gently place the barrel containing his special catch on the deck before turning on his heel to face Gilbert.

"Will that be all?" Roderich asked in a clipped tone. Glibert clicked his tongue thrice, shaking his head. "_What?_"

Gilbert placed his hands on his hips as his long blue coat rustled about his calves. The shining hilt of a cutlass caught Roderich's eye but he strained himself not to pay attention to it. "Is that any way to talk to your _superiors_?" Roderich nearly sneered, but his heart caught in his throat as the albino demon shoved off his perch and advanced. "_Captain_ said not to bother the townsfolk today, but I think he'd make an exception for you. I don't like your tone."

Roderich was frozen, fear causing his body to quake. _Pirates_. They are all evil, rude, horrible. They will murder you without a second thought. They do not care about your wife back home or your potential child. Why would they care about things like that? They plunder, they use, they murder. As gloved fingers seized his neck Roderich squeezed his eyes shut. _The Bloody Sanctum_ was crewed by the worst of the lot. It could be match up to a ghost ship. You could never find it when looking, and it always found you when you flee. Each and every member had their palms stained crimson with the blood of the guiltless, children, women and men alike. Any of them would murder him in cold blood.

"Why don't you _apologize_?" Gilbert purred into his ear, hand clenching tight. Roderich gnashed his teeth as his windpipe contracted, struggling to get the oxygen to his body. His brain started to fog. "Well?"

As usual, his pride would not go down without a fight. Roderich swished saliva in his mouth and spat with all the force he could muster into the face of the astounded, and now fuming, devil-man. "_Burn in hell, Pirate._"

The fish tail began to wave.

* * *

Matthew was very cross with himself right now. Why had he fallen into a slumber during such an important time?! He had woken moments ago to find himself into an even more uncomfortable position (his chest and face pressed right against the side of the barrel, arms crushed to his ribs) and a commotion he could not see taking place outside of his wooden prison. His head pounded from all the blood forced within it and he could barely feel the tips of his fin, but this was much more important! His suddenly honed in on a specific word - _pirate_.

He needed to protect the man from that Pirate!

Immediately Matthew began to writhe his hips and thrash his tail aggressively, struggling to free himself of the tightness about his waist. The barrel teetered, but it was sturdy and did not fall. With a loud, frustrated shout Matthew threw his arms out, beating as well as they could against the damp inside of the container until it started to crunch under the pressure. He examined the crack caused by his fist, then drove another punch into the wood as it finally started to splinter. A few hits later and there was a small hole the size of his fists in the wood. Salty, fresh air spun against his senses and Matthew wheezed, hoping to taste more of it once he was finally out of this little trap.

That side now had a fatal flaw. Matthew began to rock the weight of his tail forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards until - _crunch_. The barrel toppled over onto the side with the hole and cracked all the way through as the wood snapped into tiny pieces. The merman hissed as some pierced the soft flesh of his belly but he was much happier to be out of the stinking place rather than trapped inside. Unfortunately, having half the body of an elegant fish did absolutely nothing for him without water. Matthew's body jumped and squirmed uselessly in place as he groaned in aggravation. He almost missed the distinctly dissimilar noise of a body falling and he peered up with his lilac eyes to inspect the sound.

A man, older than he looked, lay upon the deck. His hair looked neatly kept and he had glasses perched on the end of his nose, casting a light film over his otherwise pretty eyes. Matthew could not help but eye his garments. They looked... completely uncomfortable! How was skin able to breathe through such heavy looking cloth? How was one to swim? Did humans have an acute regard for their upcoming future?! As Matthew's eyes flickered over the collapsed man's winded, coughing figure, he failed to notice the pirate gaping at his fishy form. After all, the man on the flooring seemed as though he was in much more need of Matthew's aid. An idea rose to the surface of ther young man's mind. Reaching out, Matthew then plunged his fingers into the deck. Then he used his upper body strength to haul himself forward. He repeated this motion with his other hand, then the other, and so on and so forth.

Alas, this crawling motion propelled him forward at a rate most alarming to the human males, one of whom began to shriek in terror. Roderich fumbled for the gutting knife in his boot. The pirate, Gilbert, staggered backwards, his expression one of bemusement and awe. Neither of them were quite _positive_ of what this hybrid was, but Gilbert was beginning to form a general hypothesis. Roderich, on the other hand, was well on his way to having a premature heart attack on the spot.

"Get away! A-away!" Roderich choked, flailing the three inch blade in Matthew's face. The merman peered at the sharp metal curiously. He managed to steer clear of getting an eye poked out, but just barely. However the end nicked the hollow of his cheek and Matthew backed off in pain.

Roderich's eyes were so wide that anyone could see the white circling the iris. What was that _thing?_ It looked human, made human noises as it whimpered from its wound, and yet... His violet eyes stuck to the sight of the long, brawny tailfin that shimmered in the sun of dusk. Fish parts notwithstanding, the more human features of the creature were positively stunning. Wavy golden hair hung about their face and eerily inhuman lavender orbs gazed perplexedly between the two humans. It had a soft, gentle face with smooth creamy skin that beckoned others forward to touch. Gilbert made a noise to Roderich's right. Roderich's head snapped to look at him but the pirate's intense maroon gaze did not stray from the creature on the deck. The hellish -looking male appeared to be entranced.

"You caught a mermaid?" The ruffian asked skeptically, pacing towards said creature. Matthew scowled and thrashed his tail at the man, recognizing his voice from before. Gilbert cackled. "Whoa, there! A rowdy one too! You always this fiesty?" Not expecting a reply, he squatted just out of reach of Matthew's vigorous floundering. He sniggered and threw a glance back over his shoulder at Roderich. "How'd you get 'em?"

Roderich was not sure how to reply. After all, he had not actually caught the lad himself. "It... it threw itself onto my deck. I... I thought... a fish..." His forehead creased. "Mermaids do not exist!" The words burst from his mouth like a tidal wave. Gilbert gave him an annoyed 'are-you-shitting-me' look.

"Really? There's one right here." The man patted Matthew's tail for emphasis. "You can't _still_ be ignorant to what's right in front of you, right?" Matthew seemed displeased by the gesture and shrunk away from the long, pale fingers. His tail felt funny.

"Ridiculous!" Roderich's high, sharp note cut into the air. He failed to perceive the noise of others clambering to the top deck. The adolescent that was previously playing on the ship regarded the exchange with huge eyes. Other less recognizable muddy faces and forms of the crew began to swarm up to the deck, as Peter had motioned for them to see what was unfolding. They muttered quietly to themselves, squinting disbelievingly at the scene. "Mermaids never come to land! They are fables, stories, just as _imaginary_ as ... as..."

"Merman."

All eyes locked to the source of the soft, breathy voice. The one who dubbed himself a merman quivered silently under the stare of the humans, but courage made his voice known. "I am ... male. I am a M-merman." His otherworldly eyes swept across the crowd that started to form on the other side of the ship before they returned to his tail. "_Bonté_, I apologize for my demeanor. I speak English poorly."

"_Verdammt, er spricht Französisch?_ That'll piss the Captain off!" Gilbert laughed, pushing himself up to height. Roderich scrambled to his feet, wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Maybe if he ran fast enough - ? "Oi, fisherman! Get your ass back here!"

Roderich broke into an uncoordinated run, fearing for his life. He flew down to the docks, sprinting to get off away as fast as he could. He needed to get home. He needed to get out of here, out of this madness. The people of this city needed to be protected! The burden to inform them that monsters like savage _merfolk_ existed fell to only his shoulders. There were so many tales that could be true, of ships sinking and men jumping to the sea's embrace for the _love _of an extraordinary creature. This information could prevent things like that from happening. Most of all, he _needed_ to make sure Elizabeta got home safe -

A shot rang through the air.

Temporary pain exploded in the Austrian's skull, and then nothing. Darkness. His body dropped sideways into the sea, sinking to murky depths.

Matthew watched the human fall into the water with a puzzled look on his face. What odd timing for the man to decide to take a swim.

Gilbert blew the wisping smoke away from the end of his pistol before holstering it again. "Well, he ain't that good of a listener, is he?" He sniggered to himself before clutching Matthew's bicep and hauling him into the air. He studied the blonde's pale frame as he attempted to wriggle around. His tail was flopping weakly now. The little creature must be almost completely sapped of his strength after that little escapade. Gilbert shrugged and threw the sagging body over his shoulder. "Kid, you better be worth the lashing I'll get from the Captain."

He turned to the dirty-faced swarm. "Ja, ja, get to work! You can have a lookit him later." The man gestured for the crew to go away from them as he padded across the timber decks. Their inquisitiveness would have to be contented later. Everyone knew that any find, no matter human, land, or jewel had to be inspected by the Captain before they were given the thumbs up. This creature, be it man or monster, needed to be of some kind of value if it was to be kept aboard.

Matthew felt so helpless. Air was much thinner than water and therefore he did not have to use as much force when moving through it, yet he was unacquainted to that. He had been pushing himself in a similar way as how he would underwater and it tired him quickly. His arms ached and his fingers and chest stung from their abuse against the wooden barrel. Matthew groaned in misery as his chest bumped against Gilbert's hard shoulder blade and he closed his eyes in dismay. His stray curl teetered to and fro through the air. "I'll try to be worth it."

The deep, guttural laugh that erupted from Gilbert's chest was unexpected. Matthew whined, confused. He had meant what he said! "Kesesese! I like you, kid." He adjusted the young male on his shoulder so the merman would not be as sore later. His garnet eyes glinted in the dark light of the sundown, urging the others on deck to get to work. They needed out of this harbor immediately. A strange, slightly discomforting smile twisted onto his face.

"Let's hope the Almighty Arthur Kirkland finds you of interest, too."

* * *

_Szeretlek - _I love you.

_Bonté - _Goodness

_Verdammt, er spricht Französisch? - _Damn, he speaks French?

_Humans; (hyoo-muh-n) i.e Homo Sapiens__  
__The Homo Sapiens are the most common sort of intelligent life one can find on land. Most humans are categorized by their brain size relative to their body size. They usually live in packs of families, and from there groups in towns, cities, villages etc. Humans are vastly knowledgeable and adaptable, able to create technology and invent all sorts of things. They are able to harness means of self-expression through languages and the exchanging of their ideas. Unlike many mammals they are able to form their own personal thoughts and are capable of setting themselves apart from their peers; they have the ability to make themselves individuals. They can form complex social networks with one another, which gives them the amazing ability to communicate and work together well. These diverse interactions allow humans to develop deep moral values which can often form a basis for their society. Their educated ways eventually led to the birth and growth of civilization, wherein people created religions, social structures, and governance._


	3. Metamorphosis

**I'm so embarrassed about the length of time it took for me to write this out. Please accept my apologies. Life got a little too hectic for me to manage. In short, sorry, I'll try not to let it happen again, but you know. Highschool means studies first. There isn't a lot of action in this chapter and the ending blurb is hastily done, but I hope you all enjoy.**

* * *

_Red Herring_

**Metamorphosis**

_Change is inevitable, as it is  
The way we grow, the way we  
begin anew, and the way we  
learn that sometimes, things  
happen for a particular reason._

* * *

"Here we are."

The door hinges creaked against the rotten wood as Gilbert shoved the door aside, Matthew still tossed like a sack over his shoulder. Matthew peered at the room as best as he could. The lighting was astronomically dissimilar from what it had been outside even with the sun on its decent. A dim glow radiated from thin sticks placed all about the room, each with what looked like a hunk of the sun dancing on their tip. Yet the light cast from these was not harsh, not burning to his retinas, but rather soothing and warm. And it smelled... nice. He could not put words to the aroma, for from where he was from there were no words for ink and dusty old paper. Somehow the dry scent greatly appeased his emotions. Matthew's guess was that the piles upon piles of rolled white sheets were important to this ship as they were stuck in a place high from the ground on a wooden shelf. He also took notice to the distance between those sheets and the little sun-flecks. Peculiar.

Additionally, the room had a feel to it that Matthew did not quite comprehend. The air was not like it had been on the outside of the cramped space in that out there, it was much cooler. Comfortably cool. In this wooden den it was warm. _Warm_. That was not a word used often by a male that lived beneath the icy crests of the sea. Matthew was not familiarized with _warm_. He found the sensation eerie, yet not painful, so he disregarded it. If a mere human could survive such a climate, it should be no problem for a much more durable creature as he.

Less than gracefully did Gilbert plop him into a wooden... thing. The shape was alike that of his father's throne, only much less grand and much less wet. Much less comfortable, as well, Matthew told himself with a grimace. His scales scraped over the seat, forcing great splinters from the edge. The pirate swore loudly however there was little either of them could do to aid the chair. No amount of wriggling made the situation any better, in fact it made it worse as the only position he could manage sitting upright in was terribly uncomfortable. His tailfin did not bend, bow or shape like human legs could and would only remain straight, albeit slightly arched. The merman sagged into the back of the chair with the end of his tail flopping weakly. He felt utterly exhausted. All the squirming and shifting he preformed moments ago left him with even less energy than before.

"_Scheiße_." The silver haired pirate puttered around his chair, inspecting the damage to the wooden craft as well as Matthew's scales. He paused in his steps. "You're made of some good stuff, heh!"

Though Matthew felt unsure, he determined it was best that he respond. "You are... taking knowledge of my ex-existence well." His lavender eyes scrutinized the expressions that flittered over Gilberts face. Confusion, something he could not discern, and then thoughtfulness. That was normal, Matthew supposed. Even the slowest of a man could be considerate. His own brother was a prime example.

"Well, yeah." Gilbert squatted next to the chair, eyeing its occupant warily. What, Matthew began to ask himself, would a man like this be guarding from a highly helpless being such as himself? "I dunno, fuck, I mean, why would I not believe something I can clearly see? It's common sense. _Ja_, you're mythical as fuck, but I mean... " Matthew's mind wandered as the man began to ramble in a way that was nearly incoherent due to all the German mucking up his English. Judging by the tentative look in those claret eyes, Matthew presumed this was not truly the case. In his experience, even the citizens under the sea were unused to the sight of the merfolk and would shout or flee upon meeting. Merfolk were a exceptionally uncommon race. However, this man displayed none of the above actions.

Suspicion swelled like a tidal wave in Matthew's chest, but he stifled the unpleasant feeling before it fully flourished. Judgment should not be so easily passed onto others. There was an off chance that humans were more accommodating to the unknown than other races. How would he know? Matthew had never encountered Homo Sapiens beforehand and as a result he knew nothing of their culture, their ways, their ideals. _That is part of the journey_, Matthew realized. It was up to him to solve this puzzle of puzzles, this enigma shrouded in mystery, the pure _conundrum_ that was human life as it moves and shapes around his head. He would crack the riddle wide open like a clam; then the juicy, satisfying meat would be bared to his hungry, snapping maw.

_Oh, a sea pun... Michelle would love that._

"... Agreeable."

The murmur ceased all movement of Gilbert's mouth. He frowned, nodded sharply, and as if the young mer was his little sibling, patted Matthew on the head. The pressure of Gilbert's hand on Matthew's skull made the room spin. The boisterous, annoying laugh that followed the ruffling of his hair reverberated off the walls of the hollow room. Gilbert's teeth gleamed as he turned back to Matthew, but he pulled a face as their eyes met. "... Hey, you don't look too good."

Did he not? Until the man mentioned it, Matthew was feeling just fine aside from the obvious weariness of his physical body. Now that the hub of his mind focused on his lean frame he became acutely aware that something was off. His palms were clammy and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like wet sandpaper. Matthew blinked twice, eyes dry and prickling. "I..." His voice cracked as it tumbled from his dry lips. The air that he drew into his nose and mouth was unbearably dry and it tickled his throat. His eyes began to flutter.

The room was hot.

_So, so_ gosh darn _hot_.

The length of his fin abruptly began to tingle horribly, like thousands of tiny fish were nibbling at the soft flesh hidden by his scales. Matthew was unsure of how to react before a cry ripped itself from his lips. Swift, incorrigible pain shot down the middle of his tailfin like someone was gutting it with a knife. The shout startled Gilbert, who stepped away in puzzlement and awe. Matthew's mind went wild, driven by instinct as he floundered uselessly. His body was numb, feeble and susceptible to the searing agony wracking him.

As the pain overcame him, Matthew was ignorant to the morphing occurring about his lower half. The silky, translucent fin at the end of his tail lengthened and folded in on itself, forming oddly shaped clumps that grew rapidly into the size of a male humans feet. Shaping the toes took little longer than five seconds, however the skin was discolored, remaining the lucid lavender it originally was. A crease formed between the two masses before they split apart from one another. This split traveled all the way up his tailfin, tearing the mass into two equal portions and stopping between his hips. The pseudo legs bubbled dreadfully, like something was moving beneath the surface, before they morphed and twisted on themselves to resemble the silhouette of calves, knees, thighs. Strong lilac scales appeared to melt together, smoothing out completely as they turned the colour of Matthew's flesh. His newly developed appendages fine-tuned themselves to the details all the way down to the last toenail.

Gilbert watched on, torn between absolute revulsion and fascination as his eyes roamed over the nude body displayed before him. Typically, when given the chance to have a go at an attractive being Gilbert took it, but... There was not an ounce of desire flaming in his eyes, no heat pooling in his navel. He was merely enraptured with the altering the young man underwent. That _had_ to have stung. Aside from that he was only downright embarrassed for the merman who clearly had no notion of what was taking place. Compelled by some force unknown to the rude pirate, he shrugged off his thick azure coat and draped it over the still shuddering Matthew.

This, however, did not prevent his eyes from wandering about the exposed flesh. Upon moving closer he could see tiny splotches of lavender still embedded in the merman's skin, particularly around his hips. There was a light splattering down the outside of his thighs and over his ribs along with darker, more visible scales dotting the tops of his shoulders down to his shoulder blades. Gilbert gently slid his thumb over the coloured patches on Matthew's left shoulder, intrigued. They did not feel like scales at all, in fact, they were only discolourations of the skin. A strange sort of freckles, maybe.

Matthew groaned and Gilbert dropped his hand, hurrying to pull the coat about the lithe figure to cover him up. The boss was still on his way, after all.

The tingling sensation intensified into a violent prickling. Matthew bit his bottom lip, muffling his quiet whimpers as the pain subsided. With gritted teeth and narrowed eyes Matthew looked unsurely at his new legs, making a noise of disgust at the weird, slimy film covering them. _Is that from the change?_ he wondered silently. But this did not deter Matthew for long. He bent and unbent his knees frantically if only to marvel at the fluidity of the motion. It was unlike swishing his tail; these legs were guided by bones and tendon, not simply muscle as his tailfin had been.

A gleeful smile spread on his face as Matthew wiggled his toes. First the big one, then the one next to that all the way down to the tiny one on the end. They waggled in perfect harmony, one right after the other. Fascinating. He eyed the supple limbs appraisingly, sliding his lilac eyes over the toes and heels, past the slim ankle and up the slender calves, over the bendy knee and onto something almost as unfamiliar as the legs. Matthew gazed perplexedly at the strange body part placed between his hipbones. _What is that?_

Like a child, Matthew hypothesized that the best way to learn what something is would be to feel it. His long, thin fingers reached downwards gradually to grasp at the flaccid body part -

"Woah, woah! Wait just a second there! I dunno about where you come from, but here, _self-discovery _time is _alone _time! Get it?" Matthew's trembling fingers were centimeters away from his groin and the loud noise that was Gilbert startled him enough to look upwards. The man looked a little mortified. Matthew pursed his lips and titled his head to the left in question. The man simply shook his head and pulled the ends of the coat over the mermans - _humans? -_ body to protect him from the chilly air of the night. "Don't lookit me like that! You should know what that's for anyway, right?" Gilbert's expression became one of bewilderment as Matthew shook his head. "No?! What, y'don't have those? Man, wonder what you do in your off time!"

Not comprehending the statement but also not wanting to burden the other man with his irritating queries, Matthew blinked in silent contemplation as Gilbert buckled the jacket shut. The air was cold now. Moments ago it had been a scalding, burning breeze of aridness but now it was the complete opposite. Chill pressed up to his skin like a cold dagger as he shuddered. What brought on such a difference in temperature? Matthew's hands quaked more until he forced the frigid parts under his thighs - which were warm!

He'd never been this hot in his life! Matthew gaped as the heat from his body melted the ice cold of his fingertips. It was amazing! And the strange clothing item that the man had draped about his person was balmy in comparison to everything else. _So, so warm!_ Warmth from the man's body resided within the wool threads and spread across Matthew's skin. He buried his face in the collar of the coat, absolutely delighted. Rather than the scalding heat from moments ago, this warmth was wonderful. It did not injure him. _How can anything this warm be so amazing?!_

Gilbert, on the other hand, was looking more ill at ease by the second. Sure, he was more than happy to make their ship guest thing comfortable, but after what he just saw... "Uh. Hey, kid. Are you all right?"

Matthew's eyes shone with gratitude and everything close to it when he lifted his head and beamed at the man. "It is warm."

"... That's... the point...?"

The blond dipped his head forward in rapid succession before burrowing his cheeks back into the oversized collar. He could not place the scent that emitted from the coat. Something comforting, something passionate, something spicy. The ocean, maybe, mingling with the natural stench of the human body? Perhaps most people would call it an unpleasant smell, but for Matthew it was new, intriguing, comforting. His keen senses picked up on it despite no longer having all the other benefits of being a merman. Matthew peered up at Gilbert, who had been gawking at him for quite some time now. "Thank you. I am unacquainted with 'warm'. It is enjoyable."

Gilbert, who for once was at a total loss for words, merely nodded noiselessly in response. Matthew nuzzled back into the brim of the heavy heat as the albino spun on his heels, shaking all bizarre thoughts from his mind. "I'll be back, gotta grab the ol' Capt." The German paused, hand suspended over the entrance and the other against its frame before he threw a glance over his shoulder. His brow was furrowed. "Hey. You got a name?"

The merman stared owlishly at the male for five seconds before hesitantly parting his lips. "... Matthew." Should he tell him his last name as well? Deeming it information that the other did not need, Matthew tentatively questioned the other before he slid through the door. "Do you? Have a name, I mean."

The albino shot him a sharp, tiny smirk that curled the edge of his lips. "Kesesese! Of course I do! Gilbert Beilschmidt; but you can just call me Gil, Mattie!"

_Mattie?_ _Mattie, Mattie. _The nickname shot sparks through his spine. _Al calls me that._ Memories floated through his head, making Matthew feel uneasy, numb and slightly nauseous. He attributed it to homesickness and promptly pushed the sentiment away. Instead of outwardly reacting Matthew maintained a poker face. "Yes. I... I will call you Gil, then." Bestowing the name upon Gilbert made the albino grin widely. With a loud noise of approval the albino darted from the room with words of returning soon.

Lavender eyes flitted back to the wriggling toes at the end of new legs. _I wonder how they are used._ Matthew quietly pondered to himself, reaching and brushing the pads of his fingers over the flawless skin. Clearly humans used them to get from one place to another, but how? Closing his eyes, Matthew pictured the way Gilbert had moved, charmingly and stylishly and with all the poise he'd ever seen. For a human walking is second nature, just as swimming is second nature to a merman. Yet Matthew could not picture himself copying such refinement, such beauty that was displayed in what appeared to be a simple motion. Swimming was his forte; but not even a merfolk was born with the ability. It was a skill that came with practice. Walking must be like that, too. Pressing the soles of his feet into the floor, Matthew considered standing but sent away the thought. Aid would be needed for that task.

A sigh escaped him. As he cast his eyes about the room he noticed a distinct lack of detail from before. His eyes did not acknowledge small things that he had picked out beforehand, like the dents in the walls or the creases on those heaps of paper. Now darker than before, the room seemed almost ominous and frightening to the merman. Shadows crept towards him from every corner; the walls were aglow with firelight, hauntingly beautiful in the way the sunspots flickered and weaved; the air was musty and old and stale and _smelt of something he'd never once had clogging his nose._ He hid his face in the collar of Gilbert's navy coat, preferring the comingling smell of sea and sweat rather than whatever _that_ was.

The young man may look nearly twenty but his knowledge of the upper world was virtually nonexistent. Did they eat? That question was answered for him by the happenings that had transpired minutes ago. Or was it hours? Had long had that transformation taken him? He did not know. Were all the people here like Gilbert? Somewhat kind, slightly irritating, mostly intimidating? If so, he supposed he could overcome his fears. Humans certainly were not as scary as the distressingly wide orifice of a Great White, that was for sure. And he had dealt with Great Whites before! Really, they were more like puppies once you found a place in their heart. They would follow you from one end of the ocean to the other, wide grin startling most little fish away... His mind wandered to thoughts of the ocean.

Matthew was not unlike a child; however, he knew better than wandering off on his own like a bumbling babe. When he was little he quickly learned that the ocean could be dangerous, more so for someone like him. Thrice had he fallen into the clutches of a dangerous Sea Witch, the third being the final time he had seen her alive. The woman had been a conniving, distorted mutation of nature and magic mixed into one. Something not quite natural, not quite fake, and wholly not right. Better off without her, the sea was. Alas, when one Witch dies another must take her place, and in that case it had been a mermaid close to him. However, her transformation did not discourage either of them from remaining just as close as they had been before; only separated by the expanses of the sea.

Yes. Being the first heir to the throne of the sea was a mighty big load. Not for the faint hearted, not for the weak or cowardly. Not for someone who would flee from that station. Matthew hung his head.

It would do him no good to be dismayed at what had already been done. His leaving would be a good thing, Matthew rationalized, especially for his brother. It might force the other merman to do a little growing up, to begin acting with the elegance and perfection often associated with creatures of their caliber. Really, Matthew would make a terrible ruler, too. He would be much too soft on their subjects. His brother would do much better than Matthew - what did he _not_ do better than him?

Swim, speak, romance. Matthew had never beaten his brother in an underwater race. The younger male's strong, muscular blue tailfin and body rode the current like the way a leaf rode the wind. Matthew spluttered violently during public speeches, never being one to have much to say, whereas his brother belted out handsome, long and riveting dialogues that would cause the hardest of man to shed a tear. Romance... well, that spoke for itself. Through the years both of them had courted women and men alike, only Matthew's pile of suitors was far smaller than the others. His brother was better looking and far more amiable. Sometimes the girls that Matthew courted left his embrace to pile into the sun kissed arms of the younger Bonnefoy-cross. It left a sour taste in Matthew's mouth, but what could he do? He adored his younger sibling more than all the seven seas. Alfred was blood; blood was thicker than water.

They may come from different mothers, but their father was the connecting tie. Matthew had his hair; silken and golden, just past his chin, and maybe a bit of the romantic personality his father exuded. Alfred, however, was everything else. His hair was gold, too, though perhaps a little darker and without the curls. Both had an exuberant, lovable personality that drew people in and made them _listen_. A ideal, shaped body, fitted with hard muscle and glittering with diamond hard scales. _Oh_, what fine scales they were. The best trait that Alfred had inherited were the colour of his eyes and scales. Soft, warm azure that penetrated to the depths of your soul. Blue as the ocean depths so loved by the people of the sea. Matthew, on the other hand, had eerie mauve orbs, which, so he was told, were the same as his mothers.

Whoever she had been.

The door ricocheted off the wall as it was unexpectedly flung wide open, staggering Matthew out of his thoughts. How he had missed such heavy footfalls, he would never know. Three men strode into the room, followed by a Gilbert who looked less than pleased at the given situation. Matthew's otherworldly eyes flickered from him to the other three, speedily drinking in their appearances. Next to Gilbert, a shorter man who came across as less than menacing. In fact, his bright, eager eyes met Matthew's full-on and the merman could see the shining brilliance and excitement in their pits. Hopefully his lack of tail would not disappoint the poor lad. In contrast, the male to the right of the expectant made Matthew perturbed. _That smile._ Had the man been a shark in his past life? Matthew would not doubt it, with a grin like that. Combined with his height, the man was petrifying. His hair was pretty cool though, Matthew had to admit. How did it stick up like that?

As the two previously described began to move around the enclosed space, fishing scrolls out of piles of paper and ink and quills, Matthew's eyes stuck to the leading man of the group. The first thing he thought was _oh gosh those eyebrows are hideous_ which quickly changed to _why is he looking at me like that_ and from there onto _his eyes are gorgeous._ Never before had such a shade ever occurred to Matthew. Vivid, luminous green irises bored back into his own lilac eyes, calm and serene and mildly curious. They were set on a handsome face - _excluding those caterpillars - _leading to a slender neck, to the collar of a velveteen red coat. It was adorned with gold buttons and buckles, length all the way to his knees and swaying at the end. The look was similar to the coat he donned himself, right now, to cover his nudity. Both coats were unlike that of what the other two pirates in the room wore. Curious, Matthew glanced at Gilbert in puzzlement. His only response was a flicker of gaze, which Gilbert undoubtedly did to make Matthew pay attention to the green-eyed man. Speculation would get him nowhere for this moment, Matthew realized, before swallowing hard and centering himself on the man standing right before him - _and when did he get there?_

"Why's he wearin' yer coat?" The low baritone rumbled from the red-clad man's chest. There was a queer note to his voice that was different from Gilberts, from the young fishermans, from the fisherman's wife. Had it not been coming from a man he knew he was to be wary of, Matthew would call the tone almost... proper. Prim.

Obviously the inquiry was directed towards Gilbert, who seemed completely apathetic. When he received no answer, the man glowered over his shoulder at the other man. "Gilbert." It was a warning.

Clearing his throat, Gilbert seemed to squish some form of resistance within himself before responding. "He's got no clothes, duh." Matthew regarded the shorted male fumble with a leather string binding a scroll of sheets together. Cursing quietly, the blond resorted to stretching and tearing at the leather until the grinning man came over to help him. "Kinda be shit if our captive caught a cold and died within three days of getting here, I mean, come on. That'd suck."

A surprisingly gentle hand took hold of Matthew's jaw, twisting his head about. Matthew did not defy the imposing man with the soft grip, for he did not see any reason to. He was not causing him harm, though the intent and slightly dark stare those green eyes fixed on him made the merman feel strange. "Right ye are; however. I didn't _say_ he was to be our captive, did I?" Now cold and calculating, the man smirked as Matthews eyes met his. "Perhaps I'll just toss the lad overboard. Watch him struggle in the sea till his unyieldin' death. Befittin' of stowaways, aye?"

Gilbert bristled. "He's a fucking mermaid - man - shit, thing! He'd just go _poof_ suddenly gills and fins and crap and he'd swim away! I explained this to you on the way in." As the frosty glare turned on him, the white haired man added, "'Sides, technically, he got here by accident. Stupid fucking Austrians that don't check their shipments."

The tallest blond butted in. "Oh yeah! Capt, Gilligan here killed our fish guy! Shot him right in the noggin! Pretty good aim you've got there, Gilly." Latter meaning to be a compliment, he shot said male a thumbs up. Gilbert made a gesture that Matthew did not recognize and a rude noise to go along with it. Neither male seemed too impressed by the other. "Hey now, no need to be so vulgar!"

"Shut your mouth, Mathias!"

"I don't want to!"

Their Captain rolled his eyes at the loud bickering. "Shut up, you two." Instantly, both of their mouths clamped shut, neither wanting to evoke the wrath of the sea-faring man. They shared a baleful look before turning their attention back to the English pirate. "As ye say, Beilschmidt. But," with his free gloved hand the man motioned to Matthew's body, raising an eyebrow, "I don't see any traces of him being a _'merman'_." The curve of his mouth twitched like the mere notion was simply preposterous. This provoked Matthew, however, he did not lash out, for he had an inkling that it would be unwise. Besides, he understood where the Captain could have deduced that from. His tail was gone.

"You wouldn't." Everyone looked to the blond that spoke. Tino had an apologetic expression etched onto his face. "Sorry, sir, but may I?" After being signaled to continue, the small pirate took a deep breath. "By my knowledge, it is often said that water folk can change their form between sea and land. Their fins turn to legs and feet on land, while they revert back to their original state in the water. However, I can't explain why he was still with a tailfin earlier and is without one now. He was still half-fish out of water." Tino smiled timidly at Matthew. "Only his upper half looked more like a barrel."

"If it's his first time changing," Mathias cut in, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "Then it would be reasonable to say his body needed to adapt for awhile first. Stuff like that doesn't just happen instantly." His hand went into his hair, tousling it lightly as he pondered. "But that doesn't prove he is what you think he is, Gilly!"

"Quite right. Should we toss a spot of water on him, then? See if he sprouts fins and a tail?"

Tino made a noise of objection. "That wouldn't work. His body needs to be completely submerged for him to change."

Thoughtful, the Captain dropped his hand from Matthew's chin, inspecting his smooth legs with piercing green eyes. It made Matthew quiver, in fright or anticipation, he did not know. Nor did he know why he would feel _anticipation. _What was that all about? "So put him in a tub, then."

"Please, sir," Tino protested again, "We're nowhere near a harbour town right now. Might we try that another time? Until then, he could stay with me. I don't mind sharing my cabin!" Matthew's intuition told him that Tino somehow felt obligated to help him in some way. Why? He studied the young boy that stood before him, fiddling nervously with the unrolled scrap of paper. There was writing in a black ink stretched across the page. Matthew could not read it, of course, but for some reason he felt as though it was important. Very, very important. Old, too, as the paper was yellowed and riddled with holes, although it seemed to be very well kept.

Matthew's eyes flicked back to Tino's face, inspecting the slightly suspicious warmth there. You would not think that _kindness _would be a cause for suspicion, but Matthew knew better. People acted a certain way when they wanted to get something they wanted and it was unlikely that humans acted any differently than his people in that regard. Gosh, there was really so much that he and his citizens did not know about these peoples that resided above their home. How could they be so close and yet so far? Their societies should be nearly intertwined due to their close distance, but instead the opposite was in effect. They knew little about the humans and humans knew little to nothing about the merfolk, or so Matthew had thought. Assuming that Tino was not a psychic and was simply a man, they may have some sort of historical evidence of the mermen's existence in the ancient past. Maybe even in mythical writings. But if that was the case, why did the Captain seem so hesitant on accepting Matthew's being?

The shortest ruffian appeared to be dismayed when the Captain shook his head, giving Matthew a sinking feeling.

"Of course not. I need to know now or not at all."

"But, Captain..."

Low noises hummed from the Captains throat as he scowled. "Think hard, lad. Don't ye remember what happened last time I let ye _believe_ in such foolish tales? It did not end well for the last man who claimed to be somethin' he was not." The sharp gaze turned on Matthew. "It will not end well for ye, either."

It was finally time for Gilbert to step in. "Well, aside from the fact he's already told me, and I carried his fishy ass up to this room..." He marched right up to Matthew and his Captain until he was nose to nose with the now cross-eyed merman. He undid the first few buttons of the coat he had given Matthew and tugged it down until his shoulders were bare. With unrestrained annoyance the German pointed at the violet flecks dotting Matthew's skin. "Mattie has these weird ass marks all over his skin! See, look." The other three pirates moved in closer, two of them oohing in admiration at the marks. "Yeah, fucking weird, right! Same colour as his eyes _and_ his tail. I dunno, but I'm almost positive that freckles aren't naturally that colour." Claret met emerald in a clash of wills. "You'd know, right? Most of your family has freckles, Arthur. Captain," Gilbert corrected himself just a moment too late. The Captain, or Arthur, seemed not to care much. He was busy roaming his eyes over the expanse of visible skin, critically analyzing the odd colourations on the flesh. Nothing passed his lips. But soon you could see the rejection on his face, the hard look of a skeptic. He stepped off, shaking his head in denial.

"That proves nothin', save for the fact that this bag of bones is likely diseased and dyin'. Might as well shoot him where he stands. It'd be a far better fate." Arthur's hand dropped to his belt, gently caressing the shiny polish of his pistol. Matthew ogled the weapon carefully, openly, warily. Gilbert had used his earlier on the man who had owned the barrel he had gotten jammed in. "Unless ye have somethin' to add for us, lad? Or are you a mute and a liar?"

You could cut the tension in the little room with a knife. Tino appeared to be distraught, unhappy with his Captains decision making process but knowingly unable to do anything about it. Mathias, however, preserved his wickedly wide grin, making it hard to read him. _Still frightening._ On the other hand, Gilbert looked mildly exasperated. "What? Are you just taking our sightings of him for granted here or what?! Fucking god, Arthur! If you kill him you could be killing our big chance! What if he _knows?_"

"Oh." Mathias abruptly became wide eyed. "_Oh_. Yeah, we should consider that!"

Uncertainty bubbled, hot and uncomfortable, deep within Matthew's belly. It puzzled him, for he had no inclination to what they spoke of. But the sheer mystery made his heart light with something similar to heat, similar to desire and similar to excitement. Somehow he felt like his body knew what they were talking about, but his conscious mind did not. Should he speak of these feelings, the emotional turmoil that stirred in his innards? "Wh-" Matthew was immediately cut off, almost as if no one heard him at all.

"No." The Captain's final conclusion rang stiffly against the ears of all within the enclosed space. "I don't want to chance 'em bein' a liar, takin' what we know and runnin' off."

"B-but, Captain... Not to speak against you sir, but what if... if he _does_ know we could be missing some good information!" Tino gave the other a pleading look. Matthew felt confused. If the Captain was his better, what right did the other pirate have to argue? Were they, in a way, something similar to equals? Arthur didn't fire a smoking bullet into the other male's skull, so he must be listening to some degree. "Just... give us a chance to talk-"

"I don't like to take chances."

Gilbert guffawed loudly. "That's a laugh! Then what the hell were you doing when you took me in?"

"Oi, that's different, ye bloody git! Yer not a fucking stranger who went mad and fell into a barrel."

"Oh my god! He was a fucking fish! A FISH! His tail was moving and everything! He broke the goddamn thing himself!"

Tino turned white at the sudden slew of anger that coursed between the two men. "Uh, let's not fi - " Mathias put his hand on Tino's shoulder and shook his head, grin still firmly placed across his face. "Ah..."

"Uh." The sound escaped Matthew before he could prevent it. He would not have noticed if not for the alert looks he gained from the others. "Um." Judging from the impatient look he now received from Arthur, it would probably be best for him to think of something - _anything_ - to say. "I... I do not know if this will alter your opinion of my c-circumstances, nor am I aware if you care about what I have to say..." Feeling more than a teensy bit self-conscious, Matthew shrugged the coat back onto his shoulders. "But I am who they say I am. I am, as you would call it, a merman. I breathe underwater. I swim. I ride the currents of the undertow and dance in the melancholy graves of ships not unlike this one."

Their peaceful hush gave him courage to go on. They were_ listening _to him_._ Such a thing did not happen every day! "My voice can be carried on the crests of waves to far off places; the soothing swell of my music calming storms, halting frenzies, setting into action the birth and growth of a million fish. I have a tail." His lavender eyes dropped. "Momentarily, it hides, but it is still in existence. And... I do not know what it is you are looking for. Admittedly, I do not care. However, I wish to... help you find it."

"Do ye now?" Arthur's cynical gaze swept over Matthew again, disapproval evident in his tone. "And how do ye propose ye could help us, hm?" Mockery dripped, hot and spiteful, from his words. It stung Matthew deep. This man had the gall to threaten him, and now to _ridicule_ him? Though the man could not physically kill him - for merfolk were said to be immortal - Matthew was annoyed at the mere thought that a _human_ was toying with the idea.

Defiance, strong and hot and imprudent, brewed in Matthew. "How do you propose that I could _not?_ You have not asked me anything! You have jumped to false pretenses like a simpleminded fool. Alive I could assist you, be it with my intellect or my body. I can do work!" Arthur sneered. Clearly Matthew was not being influential enough with promises of his aid. What else could he do? Thinking quickly, the merman began to speak with a slow, menacing voice. If he could not cohere the Captain into letting him stay, he would scare him into it.

Still, he was quiet as he muttered the words. "Murdering my person would do you no good; your travels would be hard, slow, full of death and sickness as the sea boils beneath your vessel. You would be ravaged by windstorms day in and day out and you would never have enough to eat." A surge of confidence swarmed his blood like liquid fire, filling him to the brim. "Nature would turn against you - seagulls would fall from above to pluck out the eyes of your sailors and to feast on their screeching forms. My mother, the sea, would drag you along in a never-ending cycle of torment and hell until you cried out for forgiveness for the crime you are so_ stupidly_ planning on committing! This, I promise." Originally it had not been intended to be a warning, but that is what it was, hanging in the air like a cloud above their heads. More than slightly disturbed by Matthew's words, Gilbert began to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt as their Captain stared the merman down.

His words came out carefully. "And ye... ye have this power? To cause it all to transpire?"

"That and more." His wavy blond hair fluttered about his face as Matthew inclined his head. "The opposite, as well, though high magic is often difficult to beckon."

An appraising glance swept over Matthew's heavily cloaked form, accessing, determining and weighing the pros and cons. The merman-human shivered under the dark gaze. What would the outcome be? _This man would not hesitate to murder me,_ Matthew comprehended with a great start. _With that shiny... shiny..._ He struggled for something to compare the pistol to. Hard and glossy and frightening. The teeth of a grand shark, or the back of an electric eel. Scary things that lurked in the dark, hidden and sleepy-eyed till the scent of prey came across their path. Then they would strike.

Black fear began to creep into Matthew's bones. Though the bullet would bounce off his skull, what would they do once they were astonished with the power of an immortal being? And how was he to know that he was immortal, anyway? He'd never been in physical peril in his life. Oh, and what a long time it took for humans to come to a single decision! What went on in their brains? Were they nothing but cogs and wheels, churning and turning and gnashing against one another? What terrible noise that would be. Matthew suddenly felt deeply apologetic for his impatient behavior towards this issue. Obviously it was something that had to be thought long and hard about. An overzealous sigh shook the merman out of his subconscious. "I suppose it would be a waste to just gut someone of yer talents, hm?"

In reality, the response had only taken Arthur a few moments to ponder on, seconds between his foremost statement and his latter one. Yet the mind of an animal, a creature ever moving, ever reacting to nature and her harsh ways was implemented into the brain that resided peacefully within Matthew's skull. He went through thoughts much quicker and with more accuracy than a human could ever hope to have.

Tino breathed a little sigh of relief in the background, which Matthew duly noted. He would need to speak with that boy. To him, it was a teensy bit suspicious that this random scallywag was so interested in keeping him alive. But for the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Always proper and polite, he inclined his head diagonally backward, exposing the soft flesh of his throat. Traditionally, this was the way to greet a violent-natured beast, such as a shark or an aggravated lion seal. It was a sign of respect. Though he assumed humans would not use such a gesture Matthew was familiarized with it, so that is what he would stick to. All of the others in the room appeared unfazed by the movement - but Matthew noticed a distinct lack of relaxation radiating from Gilbert.

Another person he would need to question, again at a more private time.

"... Yes. Thank you." Matthew received a curt nod in reply.

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Just make yerself useful while yer here. Tino'll take care of ye, after he sets up yer cot." Said man piped up with an exuberant 'aye, aye!' before promptly rushing from the room. Mathias howled with laughter at the display while the Captain rolled his beautiful eyes. Was that counted as a dismissal here? Judging by the unimpressed look on Arthur's face, not likely. "Ye will need to come by my cabin later, so me first mate and I can fill ye in on other details. Until then, just stay out of the crew's way. An unskilled shipmate is almost more trouble then he's worth..." The Captain waved Mathias away and the scarily tall male departed.

Gilbert spoke up before Arthur got out the door. "Hey, have we got some clothes for him somewhere? I mean, I kinda want my coat back. Sorry." Gil shot Matthew an remorseful grin before looking for the Captain to answer. Arthur considered the question.

"... He can get somethin' from Tino till we dock. Then we'll get him somethin' more suitin' a..." Poison green eyes narrowed, "... creature of his stature."

Matthew shuddered as the Captain removed himself from the room with thudding steps.

Gilbert gazed after Arthur for but a moment until he shook himself. With a dignified grace he trotted over the Matthew and held out his hand. "Here." Matthew took the outstretched hand, was pulled to his feet...

And he tumbled over onto his bottom, eyes blinking back tears. That was painful.

"You can't walk? You can't walk... Right, never been on land before." Gilbert muttered to himself before he bent over and scooped Matthew into his arms, holding him on his feet but pressing their bodies chest to chest. He grunted as he looped a coat clad arm over his neck and took Matthew's other lily white hand into his. "Watch my feet." Left foot forward. Then right. Gilbert paused, then motioned for the merman to do the same. Matthew's feet wobbled unsteadily underneath his body weight, but as he stepped forward, he did not fall. This, however, could likely be attributed to the way he was using the pirate as a crutch, but the other made no comment. "Great! Just keep doing that. Try to take more pressure off me, put it onto your legs..."

Eventually they stumbled out of the tiny room together, awkwardly stepping with one another's best interests in mind as they made their way around the deck. Matthew gasped in the fresh salty sea air, admiring the saltine taste it swept into his mouth and over his gums. It was the flavour of his home. Gilbert led him to a door in the deck and they found their way through together. They were slow, they were uncomfortable, but they were moving. Matthew found his legs to shake less with every step he took and self-assurance flared through his blood. His mind did not recognize Gilbert's voice until the other wobbled him kindly. "Hm?"

"I asked if that was true. What you said in there, about the magic?" Curiosity tinted claret as Gilbert whispered his question. He sounded vaguely awed, if that was possible, and Matthew squinted through his own bought of interest. Were humans unaccustomed to magic? Sure, in the ocean it was relatively uncommon, mostly handled by Seawitches and the infrequent transforming sea creature, but surely magic swirled in the land of the air as well? Matthew was abruptly troubled. How... odd.

"Magic exists." He answered simply, though a crease formed between his brows. The blond's wavy hair shook as they both tripped over a crooked floorboard, but Gilbert catching himself kept the duo upright for the most part. Huffing, Matthew continued. "However, I do not have the means to harness it and its capabilities. But," Matthew added rapidly, "I thought saying something like that would work in my favour."

Gilbert scrutinized him out of the corner of his eye. "Hm. Smart move, Mattie. You deceive people often?"

"No." The answer was quiet, begrudging. Matthew's eyes trained to the ground. "Never. I was terrified." Gilbert took note of the chill he could feel seeping from the young boy's palm into his own. Now, he was telling the truth. "He is a very intimidating man, your captain..."

Gilbert snorted. "I think his _eyebrows_ are intimidating, not he as a person." Matthew cracked a small grin. That was true. Those were _huge_.

"But you do as he says. You respect him?"

"Somewhat." Gilbert struggled for the right words to convey his inner thoughts. "I have to. Arthur isn't easy to get along with and most of the time we get on each other's nerves." _Yeah, I can see that..._ The Captain and Gilbert had not appeared to be very close, in the way they glowered over their shoulders at each other. If Matthew had to guess he would assume there was some sort of unspoken rivalry, be it past or present, that fizzled the air with tension between them.

Matthew was gently pulled to a halt. Gilbert quietly warned him that he was about to let go and Matthew transferred his bodyweight to his legs, feet a few centimeters apart to keep him upright. Luckily, he only teetered to the left slightly once Gilbert released him. Matthew hastily corrected his stance, narrowly avoiding another tumble. Gilbert regarded the merman with a bemused expression. "You done?"

Matthew, embarrassed, quietly muttered an affirmative. Gilbert then gestured to the door. "Okay. This is Tino's room. I guess you'll be staying here for the remainder of your time with us." _However long that will be._ Shoving the door aside, Gilbert guided Matthew into the tiny quarters. There was not much to it; a trunk, two cots on the left, one to the right. As the right handed one was empty, Matthew presumed that would be his. However, the top one on the left appear as though it had not been used in days, and from this far away Matthew could see dust collecting on the surface of the fabric.

Curious, he asked Gilbert, "Just us? Who sleeps up there?" He pointed at the dirty makeshift bed.

It took Gilbert a moment to focus on the forlorn cot before he answered. "... No one. Not anymore." Matthew frowned. What did that mean? He relayed this question to the taller German.

Gilbert scrunched up his nose at the inquiry, not fully understanding what the other was trying to ask him. "It means he's dead, Mattie." The mer gazed at Gilbert, patiently awaiting further explanation. Maybe a reaction? But there was nothing but empty claret eyes. It bothered Matthew. Was Gilbert not troubled by the death of a shipmate? He did not seem distressed, sad, angry, distraught - he spoke like he was speaking a mere fact. Without care, without empathy, without _care_.

"Does that not... bother you?"

A shrug. "Not really. I knew 'em - his name was Berwald, I think - but he was long gone before I boarded this ship. Probably died in one of the rougher town raids."

"Town raids?" The words sent an eerie tingle down his spine. "As in what?"

"As in raiding villages? Ransacking towns, stealing loot, shooting up those that dare to deny us what we want. Just something that goes along with the pirate's life." Gilbert lead Matthew further into the cramped sleeping area, over to the cot meant for the blond. Set upon it was a plain white shirt, dark brown slacks and a simple woolen coat. Undergarments, too. Next to it were a pair of leather boots.

Gilbert's eyes searched Matthews before he chuckled. "You're gonna have a lot to learn here, Mattie. Death is the way of the living. I see death every day, hell, I've _caused_ it more times than I can count." Matthew opened his eyes wide in disbelief. Oh, yes, he had witnessed the murder of the snobby fisherman before hand - but Gilbert killed others as well? "It's the way of our lives. Humans like us are greedy bastards that do what they can to survive in this world. Can't be all that different where you're from."

But it was! Matthew's home was - _is_ - full of loving, tender people. They love the sea, their mistress. They adore the fish, their brothers. They worship the coral, which feeds them. Merfolk do not needlessly take life for granted. Not any life! They may not be mortal as man, but they know that life is a precious, precious thing that is meant to be cradled and nourished, not shot dead in the sand. Again, a hand roughly mussed his hair, and Gilbert gave him a reassuring look. It did nothing to reassure Matthew. "You'll get used to it." He moved forward then, snatching the clothes from their position on the cot and handed them over to the mer. "So I'm not gonna help you put these on, because that's fucking weird and you need to learn to do it yourself, okay?" Mutely, Matthew nodded. "Awesome." Gilbert shuffled backwards, awkwardly stared at the other, then sighed. "Look, I'll just get my coat when you come up to see ol' Capt, mkay?"

"You'll be up there as well?"

The white haired man sniffed. "'Course, Mattie. C'mon - no one _else_ is handsome or awesome enough to be first mate. Just take a gander at these sweet muscles." Gilbert struck a pose and as one would assume, Matthew had no idea what he was doing. The German just appeared to be a total fool in his eyes. "Hey, what's that look for?! Whatever. Just put those on, maybe take a nap. I'll see ya in a few." He tipped his wide-brimmed hat at the other before turning with a majestic flourish. With that, the pirate left, waving his hand in farewell. Matthew was alone.

He moved timidly, careful as he hobbled queerly to the bed and placed his rump upon it. After spending a few minutes learning to unbutton the coat, he slid it off his nude form and let it drop behind him. Matthew then turned his attention to the crisp cotton shirt he had set back on the cot. He took it into his hands and gently unfolded it. It went on similarly to the jacket had, buttoning in the front. Then there was the underwear and pants. _They are similar, so they must go on the same place! But which first and where?_ Matthew deduced that, since the slacks were much longer, they obviously would be placed on his body first. As for where... Not his arms, for that is what the shirt and coat were for. Maybe his head? He made an attempt at pulling them over his top, but it did not seem to work. It just made his hair even messier. He removed the article from his cranium and shook his hair out to get it back in place. Matthew thought back to the way the others had been dressed. _Oh, the legs...!_ That made sense. But they did not have this strange-looking white thing around the outside of their clothes. Perhaps that went first then?

Three tries later and Matthew had successfully clothed himself. Proud of himself and feeling deserving of reward, the blond flopped onto the cot. This is where he would rest for this journey, and... it was a little uncomfortable. Was it due to the clothes? He kicked his boots back off and found that to be better than how it had been. Alas, the cot still swung with the rocking of the ship and his movements. But after closing his eyes and ignoring the soft press of the wooden wall into his side, Matthew almost felt... home. Like gliding on the sea's underwater tides while taking a brief nap. Inhale, exhale. Airflow in his body was different, new altogether, but it was feeling pleasant now. Perhaps he was meant to be a human, in some way. They could not be so unlike his own people. Their views on life may be separate and they may have differing life spans but do they not have similar appearances, parallel structures? Matthew's eyelids began to droop. Gilbert had mentioned a short break would do him some good. Focusing on what was unimportant at the existing time would not benefit anyone. And so Matthew yawned, stretched his body out, and fell into a slumber.

* * *

_Merman__; (__mur__-man)_

_A rare and fantastical creature. Mermen are the male forms of mermaids, a marine species that is said to inhabit the far reaches of the sea. Their body structure is similar to that of a humans save for minor differences. Their teeth are alike razorblades, claws even more so; in the place of ear cartilage mermen have wide fins that begin at the bottom of their jaw and end where the human ear would. Their eyes are made of two eyelids; one being a transparent film that covers their eyes as they swim underwater. This film is retracted when it is exposed to air. Gills are placed at either side of their neck and on both sides of the ribcage. Long webbing is common between their fingers, although not all mermen have this attribute. It is found more often on the merfolk from icier waters, which are not densely populated. Between the tailfins of mermaids and mermen, the males are much thicker and more powerful, meant for vigorous use while the mermaid's tails are meant to attract. A merman's tail has little to no fins on it save for the very end, which may have a different shape depending on the blood in their veins. Colours vary depending on the eye colour of the mer. Amazingly, they have the ability to become alike humans when their whole body is exposed to air. The only immediate effects are the disappearances of their fins, sharpened teeth/claws and gills, however just as fish adapt to the water they live in merfolk also adapt to the environment they are exposed to. If the temperature is hot and dry, unlike the sea, their bodies will morph entirely into human form by contracting the scales and tailfin into their body and implementing very much real but also imitations of human legs, feet, and genitals.  
Mermen are very social creatures. They live in groupings, some big and others small, typically in warm waters where there are plenty of fish. Considered rulers of the sea, all the other creatures in the ocean tend to heed their words. Their lifespans are virtually unknown, as they are not documented, but many assume they are unable to die. However, as the generations go on, more mermen are becoming sterile. This is the usual reasoning for why there are so little of their species. Within the population it is often not forbidden for an average merfolk to approach land or the people on it, but it is not allowed for any royalty to even think of it. Most try to squash such needs while the young are still little by instilling some sort of fear into their minds. Many myths and __rumors__ surround these strange beings, but there is one in particular that many have taken to. It is said that when you peer into the ocean and see not your reflection, but someone else, it is a mer that has taken on the form of a loved one, recently deceased. It is not proven if this is true or if it is only mere imaginings of the mind, for when you look again, all you see is yourself staring back._


End file.
